THE BEST STORY IN THE WORLD...EVER PART VI
Steve handled the situation considerably well. Especially since he hadn't eaten since the Hate Fest of 1904.
Now where was I? I don't remember.
Steve ran about the park like a rabid monkey, slurping and sucking on all the trees he could find.
"When I was just a little girl," said Steve, "I asked my mother what would I be...would I be shite? Would I be a winkertower? And here's what she said to me : Promise me, promise me, son, promise me you won't smoke."
Then Jeffrey Death arrived with his axe. He swung it high above his head and came charging towards Steve at a furious pace. Steve screamed in terror.
"Now you will die!" suggested Jeffrey Death, pensively.
"Don't you dare charge me like the audience in Fun House," yelled Steve, retaliating by holding out his hand firing round after round of skin at Jeffrey. Or was it Geoffrey? There are so many different ways of spelling it, we're not quite sure. Oh, well, at least we don't have a severe case of Jeremy Beadle crab handitis.
Jeffrey attacked with a large fish-shaped helmet, and knocked Steve to the ground, his legs spreading like butter. Jeffrey unsheathed his magnificent shiny man-sword and gripped its shaft tightly with both hands.
"You will feel pain when this bad boy comes down on you, Stevie," moaned the Death.
"Noooooooooooooooooooooo!" asked Steve.
"Enough!!!!" whispered Jeoffrey. "I have punished you enough."
"About fucking time!" exclaimed Steve.
"Steve Levinson..." smiled Jeoffrey, "This IS your life!"
"Whadda fack?!"
Jeoffrey revealed a large red tome from his cloak and held it under Steve's nose.
"In here, my boy," began Jeoffrey, "Is everything you've ever done. Which, by my quick glancationizing, amounts to not very much."
Jeoffrey led Steve into a huge blue TV studio and sat him down in a comfortable leather chair.
"Now," said Jeoffrey, "Do you remember THIS voice?"
A voice could be heard through a speaker system, which was distorted and breaking up, like many relationships these days.
"STEVE, YOU FUCKING RETARD, I'LL MELT YOUR PUSSY!"
"Mother!" laughed Steve. Jeoffrey nodded and laughed plastically as Steve's mother, Rodney came stumbling down some big dangerous staircase.
"Fuck you, son," growled Rodney.
"I haven't seen you since..."
"Since I killed your father with a spade and some willies."
"That's the one."
"Oh, Stevie baby," blubbered Rodney (who was actually crippled four years before by a a speeding priest on crack), "You remember the first time I shot you in the face?"
The newly appeared audience laughed heartily as Steve thought back, and recaptured the lost image of his mother aiming a shotgun at him and blowing his face to smithereens. After reconstructive surgery, Steve was teased in school constantly for having no face until medical science collapsed due to lack of government funding, and Steve stole a face from a tramp near his school, in Alabama. When the teachers asked why he looked like a fifty year old and had alcohol dribbling down his chin, Steve bit their shins in answer.